


Jerk

by Hoodoo



Category: Beetlejuice (1988), Beetlejuice - All Media Types, Beetlejuice - Perfect/Brown & King
Genre: Blow Jobs, Care, Explainations, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Guilt, Masturbation, Oral Sex, jerking off
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-09
Updated: 2020-04-09
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:14:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23558938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hoodoo/pseuds/Hoodoo
Summary: Beetlejuice has some hangups about jerking off. You show him it's okay.
Relationships: Beetlejuice (Beetlejuice)/Reader, Beetlejuice (Beetlejuice)/You
Comments: 2
Kudos: 133





	Jerk

**Author's Note:**

> This is a sequel to [Wretched](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21866551/chapters/56192980), a short thing based on someone's hc that Beetlejuice cries when he masturbates.

You noticed, but didn’t think much of it. Beetlejuice was handsy, always wanting to touch you whether or not it was appropriate for the setting. He loved it when you touched him. Anywhere, anytime, baby, he told you. He quite enjoyed watching you touch yourself; it wasn’t uncommon for him to ask you to masturbate in front of him, as foreplay. 

But him touching himself? Nope. 

He’d hold his cock at the base to keep it steady while he pushed into you or when you sank down onto him. That was it. 

It didn’t bother you. Even in a mutually satisfying sexual relationship, jerking off could be a private activity. 

What did catch your attention, however, is when you asked him to do it, just as he’d asked you and you’d complied, and the look that crossed his face wasn’t the typical hunger or excitement that you’d come to expect for suggeting something naughty. 

The expression that flitted across his face was nervous, with undercurrents of fear and loathing. He blanched even whiter, which you weren’t aware was possible. 

You were naked, with your hand in your pussy, but seeing that made you stop and sit up. 

“Beej?” you asked, concerned. 

You watched him physically swallow, and he gave you the weakest smile you’d ever seen. 

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he lied. It wasn’t even a good lie. 

“Beej, honey--”

“Nothing’s wrong!” 

If he’d been angry, you’d have dropped it. As it was, his insistance was quiet and almost wavering, and that set alarm bells off. You weren’t sure what was going on, and you weren’t sure how to proceed. 

He twisted away from you and perched on the edge of the bed. The two of you sat naked and silent on your bed for a moment. 

“I guess I ruined tonight, huh?” he said.

You looked over at him; he was looking at his hands and decidedly not touching his cock. You apologized. “I’m sorry if I said something wrong--”

He flinched a little, even as he shook his head. “It’s not you.”

“--it was just a spur of the moment thing--”

“It’s not you.”

“--I just thought that it’d be fun, you know, watching each other touching ourselves--”

_“It’s me, okay?!”_

Talking over you that time, he did raise his voice, and you stopped. So did he. 

The silence stretched again, and you couldn’t help but try to apologize one last time. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, Beej.”

At that, he gave an awkward half shrug. You hated seeing him so completely opposite from his normal, exuberant wild self, and you scooted over to him. You slipped your arms around his waist and lay your hand on the back of his shoulder, leaning into him. Making a deliberate choice, you did not move your hands close to his groin. 

Beetlejuice tensed at first, but relaxed when you didn’t push anything. 

“I’m the one who needs to say sorry,” he whispered to his hands. 

You squeezed him instead of replying verbally. 

“I hate jerking off,” he said even more quietly. 

It was a good thing your cheek was pressed to his back or he’d have seen the confused, incredulous expression on your face. Beetlejuice? Hating getting himself off? If someone else had told you that’s what he said, you’d have laughed in their face and called them a liar. Sex was one of the driving forces behind his existence; he loved to touch and be touched, and nothing was more intimate than that. Plus masturbation felt good and could be comforting. It had everything that he wanted, and he says he hates it?

“I know what you’re thinking,” he continued in your shocked silence. “You’re thinking there is no way that’s true.”

Yes, that was pretty close to what you were thinking. 

“But it is,” he insisted, even though you still hadn’t spoken. You picked up your head and looked at him; the hair around his ear was deepening to a bruised purple. “Jerking off isn’t what demons do. It’s not right, there isn’t any need for it. Demons shouldn’t do it.”

It sounded like he was reciting something that had been drilled into him. None of that made sense. 

“Isn’t any need for it?” you repeated. “If that’s the case, you having sex doesn’t serve any purpose either because you can’t get anyone pregnant.”

His shoulders tensed, and you could only imagine his brow furrowing at that logic. “But . . . sex feels good.”

“So does masturbation.”

He chewed over that for a moment, then countered with, “But sex is with someone else.”

Ah.

“Yes, that’s true,” you conceded. “But that doesn’t mean that there’s never any need to do yourself.”

That made him wince again. You were obviously hitting some nerves. 

“Beej,” you asked quietly, “who told you that it was wrong?”

For the second time, he gave a shuddery half-shrug. “No one.”

Another lie. You didn’t push finding out who told him something like that.

“Well, they’re wrong,” you told him. “It’s okay to do. Everybody does it. It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

He shook his head more forcefully at that, and contradicted you. “It’s not okay, not everyone does it, and I’m ashamed because doing it means no one else is touching me and I’m by myself!”

Ah, again. You were going to get back to that.

“Do you think it’s wrong when I do it?”

Since you’d switched positions, you were able to see the brief smile he gave at that.

“No,” he told you. “You doing it is hot. I like to watch you do it.”

“Is it wrong if I do it when you’re not there?”

The question made a series of tics scurry across his face. 

“Noooo . . . ?” he replied, stringing out the word like if that wasn’t the right answer he could change it in the middle. 

“Right! Sometimes I masturbate when you’re not here.”

He flicked a glance at you. “Do you think about me when you do it?”

You shrugged. “Sometimes. Sometimes I just do it because it feels good.”

He took some time to process that. You scratched his back as he did, and pressed a kiss onto his upper arm. Finally though, since he seemed half intrigued and half not convinced, you broke the silence. 

“You said you like to watch me, Beej. I only suggested it because I’d like to watch you.”

That made him tense again, and you wondered what in the hell had been said to him or--god forbid--done to him to make this such an issue. 

You slid off the bed and stood in front of him, knocking his knees apart so you could stand between his legs. Wrapping his arms around your waist, he leaned in and pressed his forehead under your collarbones, and you ran your hand through his hair, using your fingernails to gently scratch at his scalp. With that attention, a brighter pink started his roots. That made you happy; you much prefered to see that than the deeper, bruised colors that had crept up. 

“I masturbate when I’m by myself,” you told him again, “but I also do it with you. So if you’re upset doing it alone, this time I’ll be here . . .”

He glanced up at you. The expression in his amber eyes was unreadable, but he gave you a quick nod that you weren’t sure wasn’t another lie. Without further preamble, he released you and dropped a hand into his lap, taking hold of his cock. It’d become soft during this discussion, and you didn’t miss the tremble in his hand. 

You also didn’t miss the half-hearted pull he gave himself. 

Instead of continuing to encourage him, you took his wrist and stilled his hand. Beetlejuice flinched like he’d expected to be reprimanded, and you couldn’t help feel a stab of sorrow that he felt like this was the worst thing in the world. He obviously wanted to do something that you’d requested, but there were also obviously deep-seated issues with it. 

You nudged his hand away and squatted in front of him, looking up at him from between his thighs. 

“I’m sorry, Beej. I didn’t mean to make things worse.”

His eyes, which had been closed, opened to yours. 

“Can I make it up to you, or are we done tonight?”

That question made another interesting war take place on his face. Maybe you weren’t really being fair, asking something like that while you were between his legs and your mouth was so close to his cock. You were just about to stand up again and decide for yourself tonight the two of you would just cuddle, but Beetlejuice nodded. You weren’t sure that that meant, exactly.

“I’d like to continue,” he said quietly. 

With a smile, you agreed. “Will this be okay?” you asked, and dropped your mouth to his flaccid cock, taking in into your mouth. 

His soft moan was your answer. 

You sucked and licked him gently; he continued to moan. It didn’t talk long for his cock to grow in your mouth. That made you grin.

When he was fully erect and his moans increased in both volume and frequency, you blew him hard. You used every trick you knew: hard suction, deep throating, winding your tongue around his shaft as you moved up and down on it, simply holding him in your mouth as you caught your breath. In short order, you were both drenched in drool.

Above you, Beetlejuice groaned and gasped and you felt his hips shift minutely as if he wanted to thrust, even though he had no easy leverage. 

His hand, the one he’d dropped into his lap at your request, went into your hair. You’d always enjoyed when he did that; tight fingers in your hair gave you clues to what he liked and how he liked it, then you could tailor what was best for him.

This time, however his hand there sparked an idea.

Like before, you grabbed his wrist and made it stop what it was doing. As you were still actively blowing him, the move didn’t elicit the same flinching response. Releasing his cock made him looked down at you, though. 

You held eye contact with him as you licked his palm, then in between each finger. You sucked them all individually as his brow began to furrow, but you didn’t stop. You made sure to coat his hand well with spit. Before he could ask what you were doing you returned to his cock, taking it deeply again. He groaned. 

Deep throating him a few times until you felt him relax once more, on one upward pull towards the head of his cock you took his wet hand and made him encircle his own shaft. 

Immediately he tensed; you could feel it in his legs and even his back because he straightened. You glanced up his body, made easier by the fact only the tip of his cock was between your lips, and caught his eyes again. His were wide with surprise, but his jaw was still unhinged with the pleasure moving through him. 

You didn’t make him move his hand. Although it was there, you dipped your head again and took his cock as much as possible before pulling back again. You continued this shallow blowjob for a bit, then surprised him again by slipping your tongue between his fingers and his cock, just to tease. 

Beetlejuice jerked and moaned at that feeling. You did it again. 

Your hand was still around his, and lightly you encouraged him to stroke himself while your mouth was on him. 

The amount of spit you’d coated him with, both in hand and on his cock, made it easier for him to stroke and for your mouth to follow his movements. As you expected, he was a bit hesitant, but you kept your hand over his and soon, the combination of it plus your mouth loosened him.

It wasn’t hard to tell when his abdomen tensed in pleasure versus worry. His other hand slipped into your hair, and his moans returned, deeper and with more urgency in them. Taking a chance, you let his hand go and were rewarded with him continuing to jerk off into your mouth. His pace increased, and you followed along. It wasn’t difficult because it wasn’t deep. Every now and then you did the same trick with your tongue, and each time it made him groan. You could tell he gave himself a little extra squeeze when you did that. 

His moans became more hitched, and interspersed with them was your name, a sure sign euphoria was peaking in him and he was close to the end. A few tell-tale twitches of his hips gave it away as well, and just before he came you pulled off him, but stayed close.

Caught in the moment of building pleasure, his hand didn’t stop. It moved the length of his shaft, no longer hindered by your mouth, and with only a few strokes more, Beetlejuice came. 

He came in short bursts over your chin and lower lip. Smiling up at him even though his eyes were screwed shut as his face twisted in pleasure, you didn’t distract him. His hand seemed frozen, holding his throbbing cock, but he didn’t let it go until the bliss began to fade away. 

After a few more moments, he was able to open his eyes and look down at you.

“Baby . . .” he rasped out in praise, then seemed to realize he was still holding his cock. 

You smiled and wiped his come from your face into your hand. Leaning the side of your head on his inner thigh you asked, “You okay, sweetheart?”

Swallowing, he nodded, then carefully he unwrapped his fingers from his shaft. He didn’t seem to know what to do with his soaking wet hand. You stood up, grabbed some tissues, and offered him two. He crumpled one into his fist and used the other to dab away the last of the come leaking slowly from the tip of his cock. 

You cleaned your own hand, and then climbed back onto the bed with him. 

“ I hope that wasn’t too much.”

He shook his head and gathered you to him.

“It was good, baby. It was great.” He paused, and kissed you. “I wouldn’t have thought about . . . that. Using my hand when you were using your mouth.”

“It’s kind of sort of jerking off,” you said, and he nodded again. “So for real? You’re okay?”

“Yeah. It was, but it wasn’t? You know?” he tried to explain, but you understood, because that had been your goal.

Maybe you’d help him learn to understand that masturbation was okay. Maybe not. Either way, that technique was something new and something he seemed to enjoy, so you wouldn’t hesitate to do it again. 

_fin_


End file.
